Enigma
by solista
Summary: Scott is intent on unraveling the riddle of his little brother.


**Enigma**

_e·nig·ma [i nígmə, e nígmə]_

_(plural e·nig·mas) _

_n _

_mystery: somebody or something that is not easily explained or understood _

_[Mid-16th century. Via Latin Greek ainigma ainos "fable"]_

_Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved._

Johnny Madrid Lancer sauntered across the hacienda compound of Lancer. His booted feet displacing the dust to resettle on his boots and lower pants legs, then to drift on a feeble breeze once more to settle onto the earth to wait in silence.

Silver spurs made a merry tune as boot heels struck the earth, the gait of the young man cocky and sure of his place in life.

A grin broke Johnny's face into a ray of sunshine brighter than the hot California sun shining down on his sweat-streaked body. Bending at the waist without breaking stride he picked up the stick the mutt of a mongrel dog placed directly into his path.

Shaking it once then twice above his head he let loose to send the stick flying through the air with the chocolate colored dog in hot pursuit on the ground.

"Ir a buscarla muchacho," the voice rung out as a laugh followed.

A clapping of hands and the dog trotted back to Johnny who once again bent to take the slobbered and chewed stick and once more toss it in a fine arch away from him, the dog once more like a speeding bullet directly to its goal.

Scott Lancer sitting under the spreading branches of a tree took in the sight of his brother and the easy laid-back walk.

A riddle wrapped in an enigma, which was how Scott considered his recent acquisition of a younger brother. Someone who had not existed except in his wishes and dreams, a child growing up bereft of sibling rivalries.

The educated young man began to plan the dissection of the many layers of his _little_ brother to find the root of the riddle that was Johnny Madrid Lancer.

He soon discovered his little brother was a secretive person, never revealing too much of himself. Keeping his feelings behind a mask of indifference, boredom and sometimes down right rudeness, Scott had sorted the meanings of a tilt of the head or a smile that did not reach the blue eyes, or a puff of air between tight lips and a hand waved in a gesture of nonchalance.

Now to get his _riddle wrapped in an enigma _to talk, Scott would not push, he was a patient man.

Scott began to look at his brother as a project, and began his research in a calculating manner. He had been very good at research at Harvard and had excelled in term papers and essays.

His many friends at school told him once he was like a dog with a bone... thoughts scattered as a much chewed and wet stick found its way onto his lap.

Picking the disgusting object up he looked at the toothy, tongue lolling dog, "Why thank you Brioso just what I wanted with my lemonade ," Scott smiled and half-heartedly tossed the stick, as the dog shot off after the prize.

Johnny plopped his weary body down beside his brother, drew off his hat and lifted his face, "Ah, sure is muy caliente today brother. Glad to see you look fresh as a spring flower."

Turning critical eyes to Scott, Johnny did a fast once over of his brother. Noting the still bright colors of bruising on strong forearms and the scrapes along one side of his face he nodded to himself, "Well big brother what you been up to while I been melting in the sun doing your work an' mine?"

As Scott opened his mouth to speak, his glass of lemonade found its way into Johnny's hand.

Scott barely saw the slender, strong hand snatch the drink from his own, "I could have called for Teresa to bring you a glass of your own, _little _brother."

Placing the glass on the small table between them Johnny wiped the moisture from his lips with the sleeve of his dirty shirt, "no need, yours was just fine, _big_ brother," the retort was followed by a cheeky grin.

"Johnny Lancer," the female voice chided, "let your brother alone. I brought your own glass of lemonade, but seeing as how you drank his, this one belongs to Scott."

Johnny smiled up at Teresa, "Ahora mi dulce hermana que no hay manera de ser." Quicker than the mongrel dog, Johnny jumped up and grabbed the glass from his sister's small hands.

Dancing away from her with the glass held high the younger woman followed intent on relieving the laughing young man of his ill-gotten gains, "You had best give that back to Scott he is a recovering invalid and needs it..."

Teresa stopped and placed her hands on his hips as Johnny downed the entire contents of the glass and smacked his lips at her.

"You, however Johnny Lancer, smell worse than those cows out there," fanning a delicate hand in front of her face, "Please stay down wind."

With a teasing lift to her lips, she locked her brown doe eyes on to Johnny's laughing blue ones, "If you go directly to the bath house I will promise to have your own glass of lemonade here when you get cleaned and changed."

Johnny handed the glass back into the hands of his sister, folded his arms across his chest, bowed his head and stood still as if in deep contemplation.

The black as night haired head tilted up, eyes sparkling with suppressed mischief, "Depends, if you throw in a couple of those sugar cookies you was makin' this mornin'."

Teresa tapped one petite foot and contemplated the young man before her, "I don't know..."

As Johnny took a step to her she turned a wrinkled nosed face up to him, "Oh...," she held up her free hand palm out, "Whoa, just stay down wind and I promise a drink and a plate _full _of cookies."

With a whoop, Johnny advanced and grabbed his sister up and planted a kiss to her forehead.

"Deal mi hermana querida," placing her feet back on the patio flagstones Johnny made a beeline to the bathhouse, "See ya in a bit Boston, gracias T'resa."

Scott and Teresa stood staring after the retreating back of their sweaty, dirt-encrusted brother, "Well," was all Teresa could say.

"Well in deed," Scott motioned for Teresa to sit beside him in the adjoining chair, "Mi hermana querida."

Teresa smiled, "Why gracias kind sir."

The young woman felt a small breeze float across her face, "How are you feeling now, Scott?"

Her critical eye ran over the young man beside her, "That was a bad fall you took, you are lucky the bull didn't stomp you into the ground."

Scott grinned, "Well Miss Worry Wart, I did have a guardian angel on my shoulder."

Teresa's voice was serious when she spoke, "If Johnny hadn't been right there..."

Sitting forward in her chair, "he is fitting in isn't he Scott?"

Scott knew the young woman was worried either brother would leave Lancer and never come back, but she was more concerned with the younger Lancer brother.

Taking one small delicate hand in his own he kissed the knuckles of his 'sisters' hand, "Johnny says and does things we may not understand. It's just the way of Johnny, but I think he knows his future has changed since coming to Lancer."

She turned brown eyes to look into Scott's blue ones, "And Scott Lancer's future?"

Releasing her hand Scott returned the gaze of his sister, "I am the...," his forehead wrinkled as he thought of the best word to describe his feelings, "the most content here at Lancer than I have ever been since I started wearing long pants."

He smiled at long ago memories, "Oh I always had things, discipline, knew I was cared for and loved... but I knew in my soul I was missing something I needed... something more. Something my grandfather could not give me my education could not give me not even the military. I needed a home."

Teresa looked at the elder Lancer son, "I'm glad Scott, glad you are home," she swatted at something making a trail down the side of her face, "I know it means...," danged fly was making her crazy, "I just want to say... **JOHNNY!" **

Teresa jumped up from her chair and gave chase to her other brother, who was now dancing away from her with a string on a stick, laughter trailing behind him as he kept his distance.

Scott shook his head, his little brother an enigma, a riddle to unwrap.

Johnny came back a few minutes later, balancing a pitcher of lemonade, an extra glass and a plate full of cookies, the dog, Brioso, eyeing the tipping plate and anticipation of a free cookie making him dance with unbridled joy.

Scott sat forward and retrieved the pitcher from his brothers hand, "I am impressed little brother, after teasing Miss Teresa she just gave you all this bounty?"

Johnny with a grin on his face set the plate of cookies on the table between them, tossing a cookie to the waiting dog he grinned.

Settling his jean clad butt into the chair he tilted his glass to his brother, "Ah you know Scott ain't no woman can resist my _innate_ charm."

Scott chuckled at his audacious brother, "_Innate_ little brother. I suppose you are listening when I am talking."

Pouring them both a glass of the cool lemonade, Johnny took a good satisfying gulp, wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve and turned to his brother, "Well the way I figure it... Ol' Harlan Garrett paid a pretty penny for yer ed-u-ca-tion...

So I just took advantage of his generous gift... un-beknownst to him of course."

Scott nearly choked on his sip of the cool drink, and eyed his brother. It was very true and Johnny never sugar coated it, on his view and feelings about Harlan Garrett.

Scott had to chuckle himself that his little brother would find a positive aspect to any circumstances, "I am sure my grandfather would be totally floored by your astute capacity for higher education."

Johnny snickered, "Yeah I can just see Ol' Harlan rollin' 'round the floor of his big old mansion."

Scott shook his blond haired head and had to smile then drew his lips into a frown, "I know you don't hold my grandfather in high regards and I am sorry he tends to be bigoted... I... I am just glad you don't think that rubbed off on me."

Johnny grew serious, held his glass in both hands and leaned forward with a sigh.

Tilting his head the silky black hair fell over his blue eyes and he swiped them away with one hand, "You know I say what I mean, can't change years of that, but Scott I may not hold your grandfather in high regard but I am grateful that he raised ya an gave ya a good life. Tha only thing I can't abide by is him tellin' half truths an' not respectin' Murdoch an'..."

Johnny looked directly into Scott's eyes, "him tryin' ta keep you away from..." with a wicked grin and a glint in his deep blue eyes, "all my bad _influences_."

Scott would have thrown his arm over his little brothers shaking shoulders, not because Johnny was upset to the point of shudders, but because his little brother was building up to an all out deep belly laugh, it was because his shoulder hurt too bad to force it to move too fast.

Therefore, he pointed a long slender finger at Johnny, shook it and pursed his lips together while looking from under his blond hair having fallen over his eyes.

Just what could he say to that, the words that came out of his brother's mouth sometimes?

"Well little brother grandfather never knew everything about me... I had my own nefarious antics," Scott ended up slapping at his brother and wincing at the pull on his shoulder.

Johnny sobered-up as his big brothers face winced in pain, "hey you ok Boston?"

He put a hand out and gently placed it on Scotts shoulder, "whooee, guess I get a little too rowdy huh?"

Scott smiled and patted Johnny's knee, "No I'm alright Johnny, just moved too fast."

Moving his hand from his brothers' knee, he grabbed Johnny's neck and gently squeezed, "no brother I like you just the way you are. I do not ever want you to change. You are a breath of fresh air in a stale room. I feel the energy snapping around you and it invigorates me...,"

Johnny pulled back a smirk on his lips and mischief in his eyes, "Whoa brother, don't know if I like knowin' I _in-vig-o-rate _any part of yer _an-at-tomy."_

Scott pushed back from his brother and studied the young man.

Truly an enigma, "you know little brother if you are going to be throwing out such considerable words, you should know what they mean."

Johnny would have been angered if anyone other than Scott had mentioned anything about his lack of education, but he trusted and respected his big brother, "Hey it's all yer fault, you the one plopped that big ol' book down in front o' me and said_, look it up."_

Scott looked taken aback and Johnny pounced, "Yeah that dic-tion-ary. Yep yer fault, big brother."

Brioso, the mongrel dog had, had enough of this bantering back and forth between his two pack mates. His dark furred alpha male had ignored him long enough, and the light furred pack mate just would not stop his barking.

Taking matters into his own paws Brioso grabbed the platter of cookies in his teeth and ran.

He ignored the shouts and noises behind him as he escaped with his prize, thoughts only on the taste of the wonderful treats soon to be his.

Johnny fell out of the chair as he grabbed for the dog and his plate of cookies, "Tu perro sarnoso, get back here!"

Scott pushed forward to stop his brother from falling, missing the outbound compact body, he tumbled from his own chair, "What the..."

Scott looked up from his position on the patio flagstones and smiled up at his father, "Sir?"

Looking down at his elder son Murdoch placed hands on hips, "Beside you on the ground, what has been going on around here?"

Scott accepted the strong hand thrust out at him and grabbed his father's forearm. He felt as if he weighed nothing when his father pulled back, "Well sir," as Scott settled once more onto his padded seat, "as you can see your younger son will not let so much as a dog rob him of his sweet tooth."

The two older Lancers watched as the younger Lancer chased, bobbed, twisted and after one last ditch grab and belly flop saw Johnny defeated by one brown mangy mongrel dog.

Johnny picked himself up off the dirt of the compound and brushed a hand over the clothes he had just put on after his bath. Instead of raising his voice and cussing the dog in two languages, he chuckled to himself.

"You go on boy you deserve it," he looked up as a rider came full tilt into the Lancer compound. Hand going to his right hip he remembered he did not have on his gun, 'gettin' soft Madrid.'

Relaxing as he saw it was one of the Lancer ranch hands, "Walt, what's on your back trail?"

"Johnny," Walt slid his foaming and blowing horse to a haunches deep stop, "rustlers, Frank an' me come up on 'em."

The ranch hand took a deep breath, "out by tha old Conners place, 'pears ta be 'bout ten of 'em."

Scott and Murdoch had joined Johnny by the time Walt finished, "Walt, get yourself a fresh horse then ride to Black Creek and tell Cipriano and the crew. Tell Jelly to see me up at the hacienda, have Miguel tend your horse."

Walt turned his horse towards the barn, "yes sir, Mr. Lancer."

Murdoch turned back to his sons, "Scott where's your brother?"

"Took off like the devil was on his... well headed to the house," Scott held a hand to his side, "I can..."

Murdoch's clipped voice had the elder son stop in mid sentence, "you will stay here with Jelly and watch out for Teresa and the ranch."

"Will I," it was a question and a statement one he had uttered before.

Murdoch placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, "Son you can't even mount a horse let alone ride him. I need you here to make sure these men don't switch around and head here."

Both men looking up as Johnny exited the house with Teresa beside him.

Johnny had his gun rig fastened on his hips and plopped his hat on his head with one hand in his other was his fathers gun rig.

Teresa had Murdoch's hat and rifle her eyes filled with concern and fear.

Scott bowed his head when he looked at his 'sister' then at Maria in the doorway with the tip of her apron pressed to her lips.

He knew they were both remembering the not too distant past and Day Pardee, "You are right sir; I'll have Jelly, Miguel, Luke and Jake. We will be alright."

Johnny slapped a hand to his brother's shoulder, "You just make sure T'resa an' Maria bake up some more o' those cookies."

Teresa had hugged her guardian then turned to Johnny, "make sure you bring everyone back in one piece and Maria and I will have more than even you can eat."

Johnny adjusted his rig to sit more secure, both hands on the belt buckled he raised his head to look at his 'sister'.

His lips were turned up into his best 'butter would melt' smile and his blue eyes held the innocent mischief only he could achieve, "well T'resa I can eat moren' my share."

Teresa stepped over to Johnny, "then we'll just bake twice as much," placing a small hand on his forearm, "you keep him safe."

She tilted her head towards Murdoch as he moved away towards the barn, "and you take care of yourself." With a small hesitant smile directed at the young man, "you both come back safe... what ever would I do with all those cookies?"

She rose up on tiptoes and gave her brother a peck on the cheek. Releasing his arm she turned to stand beside Maria, 'women left at home'.

Teresa was worried for the men as the noise of saddling horses and preparing for the unknown broke her little mad about having to _stay _home _safe _at Lancer.

She was her father's daughter and sitting idly by was not her _strong suit _Paul O'Brien would say.

Well then, she would prepare here at the home front. Maria, an old soldier at this sort of thing, had already returned into the hacienda to prepare for hungry men as well as wounded men.

Teresa looked at Scott, the venerable soldier, she knew he was probably gnashing his teeth at the practical joke fate was playing out today.

He, a professional soldier, stuck at home like one of the _women, _"Scott I'll get your hand gun and rifle."

Straining to see the last of his father, brother and ranch hands ride off leaving quiet and dust, he turned to look at her with hurt filled eyes.

In a flash, she saw Scott Lancer go from invalid to the son of the patron, "Thank you Teresa," seeing Jelly out of the corner of his eye, "Jelly."

His often time softer voice held one of command as he shouted for the Lancer friend and handyman.

Waiting for the older man to jog over to him his hand went automatically to the dog sitting on his haunches at his feet, "its ok boy your master will be back before you know it."

Looking down at the brown mongrel, he smiled at the one single cookie lying on the stone at the dogs' feet, "well boy, you just hold that cookie for Johnny's return."

Scott had not had to do much strategizing since his first day at Lancer. He knew with most of the ranch hands off chasing rustlers, that the Lancer hacienda would be an easy target.

Well not on his watch and not when it could mean danger to the vaqueros families left behind as well as Teresa and Maria.

He may not be able to ride, but he did not need to be physically fit to plan a defense.

Now all there was, was waiting, he had always disliked the waiting before a battle, thoughts running uncontrollable and apprehensive.

Not this time, he had been a young shave-tail when he had tasted his first battle. He had so much more riding on his knowledge and his determined and persistent way for this to go any way but disastrous, that is just how it was, so there you had it.

Lancer was ready for whatever fate deemed mere man needed to humble him. Well Mistress Fate had tried before and Lancer stubbornness and dogged determination won out.

**Best Laid Plans...**

Scott sat on the patio sipping a cup of coffee the compound looked serene in the late afternoon.

The horses held in the paddock beside the barn were content to stand in the late afternoon sun knowing someone soon would come out to feed them.

Cattle in the distance made mournful calls bringing calves to their sides for supper.

He heard Maria and Teresa puttering around the hacienda; supper would be sensational tonight if the women of Lancer had anything to do with it.

Johnny's chocolate colored dog lay beside Scott's chair, when his head came up and a low growl rumbled in his throat Scott's coffee cup stopped mid way to his lips.

Bringing the cup to his lips his blue eyes surveyed the compound, nothing amiss there. In a nonchalant way he lowered the cup and called, "Teresa could you come here please."

Wiping hands on a towel the young woman came from the house, "Scott... is something wrong?"

He nodded slightly, and with a forced smile, he looked up at his sister, "Yes dear there is. I need you and Maria to do as we discussed."

Teresa nodded slightly back at him, "And you Scott?"

He smiled at her and stood up handing her his coffee cup as if asking for a refill, "I will be doing what we also discussed. Now go and don't forget the shotgun and extra shells."

He leaned in and put his hands on her shoulders, they had a tremble he could feel under his hands, "It will be alright, now go."

He planted a kiss on her forehead and turned her around to face the house, "remember extra shells."

Teresa forced a smile and stumbled into the hacienda, holding onto the coffee cup as if it was a life preserver. She had not felt like this since the Pardee attack.

Pulling back her shoulders she tossed her head determination over took fear in her brown eyes, 'well, she was Paul O'Brien's little girl and a born and bred daughter of Lancer.'

"Maria," she called as she entered the room, _'Lancer takes care of their own,_' the Lancer catchphrase ran through her mind as she closed the doors and reached for the shotgun.

Scott stood hands on hips, the dog was now standing beside him, the fur on his shoulders ruffled and the growls deeper, "Steady boy, don't show our hand too quick."

He heard Jelly's goose, Dewdrop squawk and honk... he looked down at the dog, the sentries were doing their job.

Glancing once at the rifle leaned up against the tree near him he rolled his head and neck as he heard the nickering and shuffling of hooves from the horses in the paddock.

Looks like the guests have arrived; never one to pass up a good party Scott waited patiently. To the untrained eye, the blond Lancer looked nonchalant and at ease, but his body thrummed with pent up energy... so it begins.

The dog taking a stiff step forward, growls louder now and fur standing on end, "easy boy, stay with me."

Jelly's goose was laying into something or someone. Scott knew the foul mood of the fowl could be painful and Dewdrop disliked strangers, so when he heard a screech he knew Dewdrop had attacked.

Johnny's dog, Brioso, no longer to be denied, took off like a bullet, Scott grabbed up his rifle and took cover behind the high adobe wall, and peeking over the top, he did not see anything or anyone.

At more screeching and deep voiced cussing it would seem the dog had found his mark.

Then he heard a sound that stilled his blood and nearly stopped his heart from beating, the resonating bark of the double-barreled shotgun fired deep within the hacienda.

Glancing once more over the wall Scott murmured a curse under his breath, clutching the rifle to his chest he sprinted to the patio doors pushing them open with a crash as they nearly came off the hinges and entered the great room at a run.

He immediately headed to the kitchen where he had told Maria and Teresa to hide in the pantry.

Sliding to a stop on the stone floors of the kitchen his eyes took in the pantry door, now supporting a jagged round hole midway of the heavy door, "Teresa, Maria it's Scott!"

"We are here Senor Scott," Maria's accent heavy with her Mexican heritage, energized but her voice strong and calm.

"We're OK Scott, how is it out there," Teresa was still a young woman, formable, reliant and stalwart her voice as calm as Maria's... as if she were asking him if he wanted more coffee.

Scott had to smile as he wiped a hand down his face, if he had, had more solders as formable as these two women he may have defeated the South on his own and ended the war early.

Stray thoughts had him seeing a defeated Confederate army plied with cookies and coffee afterwards, "I heard the shotgun blast and needed to check on you two, Dewdrop and Brioso have taken it onto themselves to save the ranch. Will you two be alright?"

Teresa spoke up in her firm but delicate voice, "You worry about the ranch Maria and I have everything under control in here. I've still got a box of shells and the 10 gauge rifle."

Scott shook his head and smiled, "Be safe you two, I will be back as soon as I can."

Scott turned and raced back the way he had come.

Upon entering the patio, he found Jelly, and Manuel with Brioso and Dewdrop holding three kneeling men at gunpoint. Luke holding a towel to Jakes bleeding head, with a nod, "he's ok."

"Jelly," Scott's eyebrows turned up in a question as he critically eyed the bandits.

One had a rip from hip to boots on his right leg, Brioso panting beside the man and growled if he moved an inch.

Dewdrop began pecking at the second man who tried to move away from the duck but stopped when the dog bared his teeth.

The third man rubbed a hand over the back of his head, Manuel standing over him with a cast iron skillet daring the bandit to try anything.

Jelly had the Winchester rifle Johnny had given him as a 'welcome to the family' gift not two weeks ago trained on the three men, "how's Teresa and Maria, Scott. Manuel and I heard the shotgun blast."

Scott smiled at the older man, "Fine they are just fine. Better I would say than these three." Catching the eye of the man with the ripped leg, Scott's voice in control, "How many more,"

The man appeared to be a little older than Scott a beard in need of a trim and trail worn clothing.

He looked at Scott with contempt and pressed his lips tight.

"Don't want to talk, alright by me but the dog does not like to be kept waiting," a low growl from the dog and the man jerked.

"OK, OK just call 'im off mister," the man now with pleading in his eyes licked his dry lips, "One more, just one more of us. He was s'pose ta get in tha house and grab tha women folk, I heard a shotgun blast an ain't seen 'im," Brioso growled low again and bared his teeth, "God's truth, just call 'im off."

Scott smiled at the dog, "Good boy, Johnny would be proud of you. Jelly let's get these men locked up in the guard house Luke let's see if we can find this forth man."

As Jelly and Manuel got the bandits to their feet they all heard the commotion coming from the compound, the wives of the vaqueros had a man prodding him forward in front of them with pitchforks and kitchen knives all the while telling him about his sorry self in quick Spanish.

As the group drew, closer Scott noticed the multiple holes in the man's hips and leg, 'well,' he thought to himself, 'Maria, didn't do too bad with her blind aim through the door.'

Elena, Ciprianos wife, stepped forward a huge kitchen knife waving in the air, "Senor Scott, this cobarde he try to escapar, but he cometa el error of climbing in mis nietos window..."

Scott would have laughed if the situation had not been so dangerous, "Are your grandchildren alright Senora."

Scott was concerned; these families were his responsibility they were the heart of Lancer. Senora Elena wife of Cipriano, leader of the band of mothers of Lancer nodded, "Si, gracias Senor Scott, Arturo he hit the man on his cabeza with the extrana roca Senor Johnny find for him. The man he falls into the room and now here he is."

Scott did smile about the bravery little six year old Arturo displayed, "Gracias ladies, Jelly let's get these men locked up."

The salt and shot peppered man limped forward, "I need a doctor. Ya can't just lock us up."

Scott looked incredulously at the bandit, "You want me to turn you over to these women?"

The man's face would have turned green if Scott could have seen it from under the dirt and grim and the trickle of blood from the small cut over his eye, "I am not cruel enough to lock you up without proper medical attention. When you four are secured I will send someone for the doctor."

Looking around at the fully armed and angry women his eyes swept back to the bandits, "Gentlemen if you would go in that direction."

The tight group of women and two old men herded the cornered bandits towards the guardhouse; Scott nodded his approval then turned back into the hacienda.

Before entering the kitchen Scott called out, "Teresa, Maria its Scott you can come out now the bandits are secured."

He stood outside the kitchen and waited for the all clear, he did not want Sam Jenkins to be picking rock salt and pellets out of _his_ rear any time soon, thank you very much.

"Scott," Teresa rushed into his arms and hugged him tight, pulling back she looked up at her brother, "It's all over? No one is hurt are they, we heard some shouting, and I thought I heard Senora Elena."

Scott had hugged Teresa back and patted her back, holding her shoulders in his hands he looked down, "Everything and everyone is just fine. You and Maria have done very good in the face of such heinous adversity. Now let me secure these guns and then I have to send Luke to town to round up Doctor Jenkins."

A small hand went to her mouth, Teresa's brown eyes filling with despair, "Oh no Scott who was hurt?"

Patting her shoulder Scott smiled, "Jake has a cut on his head, Maria's aim was quite good, that bandit will be cussing a blue streak when Sam starts plucking rock salt and pellets out of his... ahem, well when Sam operates."

Teresa folded her arms, "Well good, trying to take on Lancer what was he thinking."

Scott chuckled, "obviously not his strong suit, thinking that is. You sure you and Maria are..."

With a wave of one hand in the air as if dismissing the question as unimportant, "we are both just fine, but look at this mess," her hands went to her hips in perfect reflection of Maria's stance, "You go get Sam and we will get this cleaned up and... we have cookies to bake."

Scott shook his head; western women were so much different from the debutantes and socialites of Boston.

Just put the fear aside and soldier on, my God if he had half these women in his command he knew he could have ended the war much earlier.

Letting his sister and Maria get things back to normal he turned back to the situation in hand.

**Aftermath**

The sun was on its downward slide, parts of the valley in shadow by the time the Lancer hands, Johnny and Murdoch made their way slowly towards the Lancer compound.

There had been gunplay and with it injury and death. Things had not gone as smoothly on the range as it had at the hacienda.

The rustlers fought back over their right to take what they wanted. Lancer however did not choose to relinquish anything with the Lancer brand on it.

Men fought, men died... that was the way of it. The cowboys and vaqueros rode for the brand, Lancer was a force to be reckoned with. No give in the patrons convictions, no give from Madrid for swift and speedy justice.

The younger Lancer had drawn upon his past to keep death to a minimum; no Lancer hand had lost their lives, injury however..."

Back at the hacienda Scott had sent Luke into town for the doctor, Manuel had seen to the comfort of the prisoners and the women of Lancer prepared for the worse.

Rolling of bandages, water heated, salves set out... they were prepared for when husbands and friends returned.

Scott heard the restlessness of the horses in the paddock and the honk of Jelly's' goose. Johnnys' dog shot to his feet and stared out into the growing twilight, instead of growls the mutt's tail was swinging so fast its rear swayed.

Putting a hand down on top of the dog's head Scott grinned, "Looks like your master has returned, ok go on meet him half way."

Brioso turned brown eyes up to Scott, woofed once then took off like a bullet leaving the confines of a six-gun.

Scott smiled, that his little brother could garner such devotion in animals was a wonder... a part of the riddle.

Smile fading as men rode into the compound, bodies tied to saddles, demoralizing.

He picked out the golden horse, Johnny's horse rider less lead by Cipriano. Then he found the taller form of his father, and before him, as if he were a child he held was his little brother.

He had to be injured badly if Johnny could not sit his horse, if Johnny... no bad thoughts. His father and brother were home that is what mattered. Thank God, he had sent Luke after Sam.

Scott could only wait for the riders to get closer for his father to get closer with his little brother.

The minutes seemed much longer; he felt a tug on his shirtsleeve, "Scott..."

Brown eyes looking up into his blue eyes, "Scott is it Johnny?"

Scott nodded, mouth too dry to speak the lump in his throat blocking oxygen to his lungs.

The young woman sighed, "I'll tell Maria, we'll get things ready for Sam. Scott, this is Johnny," with a trembling smile she added, "He will be just fine. He's too stubborn to let a bunch of rustlers get the better of Johnny Madrid Lancer."

Scott finally swallowed and patted her hand on his arm, "You are right little sister," motioning with his head toward the house, "you and Maria get things ready. Make lots of coffee, I have a feeling no one is sleeping tonight."

Scott was more right than his words conveyed, no one slept at the Lancer stronghold that night.

As Murdoch drew his horse to a stop beside Scott, father and elder son locked eyes both sighed at the same time, "Well sir let's get him inside the ladies are waiting, Sam is on the way."

**The Waiting**

Wait they did, prisoners secured, bodies laid out in the barn to be loaded unto a wagon and both live and dead taken to town and to the sheriff.

Sam Jenkins had arrived an hour after Murdoch brought his injured son home. Now, another hour later, father and brother paced, sat, and paced some more in the great room of the Lancer hacienda.

Eyes drifting to the ceiling, snapping towards the stairs as once more Jelly ran down for more hot water.

Scott and Murdoch became more despondent as the elder handy man just shook his head.

Running a hand through his blond hair once again Scott sighed, "God, Murdoch what happened out there, why was Johnny the only one hurt?"

Murdoch sighed along with his elder son, "you know your brother, son."

"Where angels dare to tread was written especially for him," Murdoch took a sip of the whiskey in his glass; he did not feel like drinking, but the amber liquid calmed his jittery nerves.

In the past, he mused, if a ranch hand were injured or a good friend, he had never been this nervous, this upset this... but then his sons had not returned yet.

His sons, Scott and John, his and all that came with being a father, this part he did not care for very much.

Would he have been this way if his sons had grown up here on Lancer, what kind of a father would he have been?

Strict but loving like his own father had been, or open and indulgent like his grandfather. He would never know fate had not dealt that hand to him.

This was here and now, grown children to his empty heart. However, he was learning, his heart was healing. He had been scared at first... Murdoch Lancer scared... of two young men, one barely out of short pants. He would never tell anyone he had been scared shi... well scared.

Now he was here with his elder son hoping and praying that his younger son would live.

Scott paced once more from the fireplace to the patio doors, turning he saw the slump to his fathers shoulders, the misery on his face the hope in his eyes, "Murdoch, how did Johnny get shot, not once but three times?"

Wiping a hand down his face he did not look at Scott but bowed his head and studied the carpet at his feet, "You know your brother, ever conscientious ever the first into anything."

**The Rustlers**

Johnny pulled the Lancer hands and Murdoch up short. A single hand in the air held the charging men back. Cattle, spooked by the fast advancing horsemen, ran in every direction.

At the mouth of the canyon, a small fire was burning in the stone ring, two branding irons in the flames. The smell of burning hide still thick in the air, one momma cow nursing her calf looked forlornly at the advancing men.

"John," Murdoch looked at his son, but soon found out this was not John Lancer but Johnny Madrid staring out from his sons blue eyes. Gentle laughing eyes now cold as ice, the soft youthful face now older than his years the professional gunfighter at his best.

"Murdoch, this canyon makes a perfect ambush spot," he shifted in his saddle leather creaking Barranca shaking his head, ears pointed back for a word from his amigo.

Young Walt closest to Murdoch and Johnny, asked, "You thinkin' they still in there?"

"Yeah I do," calling to the Lancer Segundo, "Cipriano take half the men and circle 'round if they are new to the area they won't know this canyon opens up again."

Cipriano nodded, you could not tell if he was smiling under his mustache, but his brown eyes lightened up, "Si, Juanito, this is true. We will trap them between us."

Johnny nodded, "Si, go quietly and wait for my signal," at the question in the Segundos eyes Johnny smiled, "you'll know it when you hear it."

Murdoch watched Cipriano and five men branch off back the way they had come, he knew they would make their way to the pass on the other side of the canyon, "It will take them at least half and hour to get to the other side."

Johnny nodded, "Yeah 'bout that."

Looking critically at his younger son Murdoch had quiet ramblings in his head, 'so this was Johnny Madrid, in control, calculating, nothing else but the job'. To think of his boy leading a range war or bracing another man in the street made the older man shudder.

If the father looked at this in a different light; he would see his younger son defending what was his. Using the skills picked up in his constant battle with fate to be a staunch defender of the land and legacy known as Lancer.

The older man had to admit to himself that his boy was Lancer incarnate; underneath the beauty, the eye beheld was a hard coldness of unfettered nature.

If Madrid was a part of that then he welcomed him with open arms.

"John you seem in control of the situation, what do we do now," Murdoch saw his son's eyes grow even colder, if that were even possible, had he said something wrong?

Johnny's voice was slow and controlled, "didn't mean ta call tha tune Ol' Man."

Murdoch sighed, "That's not what I meant, son. It occurred to me that Mr. Madrid has been in situations such as this. I was only drawing on his expertise."

The ice in the blue eyes softened and a laughing glint invaded, "you talkin' gun money now?"

His voice just as light and a little playful Murdoch relaxed, "I believe we settled that deal when you signed on the line."

Shifting and placing both hands on the pommel of his saddle a smile turned up the corners of his lips, "yeah Ol' Man recon we did settle up on that score."

"So mi hijo, what now," Murdoch felt the tension ease from his son, the defense of Lancer in the hands of the professional.

The older man sat back in his saddle, letting his son take charge. It was not as if he had never defended Lancer before, but in a way, it felt good to know the world that he built would be in safe hands with his two sons.

**Aftermath Once More**

Murdoch continued his narrative, "So I, Frank, Walt, Jose and Jess took to the entrance of the canyon and set up crossfire. Johnny rode directly into the canyon..."

Scott sat up in his chair, "you didn't stop..."

Murdoch stared at his elder son, "Stop Johnny when he has a wild-hair, no son you know better than that. Besides, he didn't say anything to me about that part. We were already in position when all I saw was a golden blur whip past us."

Scott nodded, "where angels, or crazy younger brothers, dare to tread. I understand I apologize, I know you would have done anything to stop his foolishness."

Murdoch patted his sons' arm, "well son let us hope the angels are looking out for Johnny."

It was another thirty stressful minutes before the elder Lancers were jolted out of their thoughts as Doctor Jenkins appeared in the room.

Wrinkled face turned down as Sam concentrated on rubbing the lens's of his wire rimmed spectacles with the big white handkerchief, his lips in a tight line.

He looked up and replaced his glasses to sit comfortable on his nose the hand holding the white cloth motioned to the drinks table, "you gentlemen have an extra glass for an old country doctor?"

Scott shot to his feet to execute Sam's question. "Sam," Murdoch's voice held trepidation as he waited for the doctor's verdict.

Scott had poured Sam a good two finger shot of Scotch whiskey, handing it off to the family friend and physician he retreated to stand in front of the fireplace nursing his own much depleted drink.

Waiting, like his father for the doctor to collect his thoughts, he shifted as Sam brought the drink to his lips, fingers tapping on his glass.

"Sam," Murdoch's voice was a traced with exasperation, higher in level than the tone the rancher usually took with his friend.

Sam's head came up and his light brown eyes took in the stance and face of his oldest and dear friend, "Murdoch I don't know how to tell you..."

Scott's heart dropped, his throat closed up he felt like he was losing his touch with reality he could not see his father through the blurring of his eyes, "no," was his soft response.

Murdoch clutched the back of the sofa, the drink in his hand forgotten, the sight of his elder sons face going as white as Sam' handkerchief the older Lancer choked back the bile as his stomach was about to turn inside out, "Oh my God..."

Sam waved the handkerchief around like a white flag, paying no attention to the stricken faces of the two men, "Your younger, inconsiderate, imprudent, _boy," _Sam said the last word with a swallow of his drink, " will just be fine. He has lost a good amount of blood, but he will be..."

"Wait... just wait Sam," Scott had to find the strength to issue the terse command, "you just... Johnny's going to be alright?"

Murdoch's hand unclenched from the sofa back as he gulped back the rest of his drink burning the back of his throat and making the man stifled a choking noise, "Sam, please make sense. We thought..."

Sam turned a critical eye to his old friend and saw the stricken appearance; he could almost hear the big man's heart beating much too fast.

Glancing to the younger man in the room, he saw a more flesh color return to the stark white face.

Realizing his words earlier, "Oh Murdoch, Scott I am sorry, I didn't mean... forgive me. That _boy _upstairs could try the patience of a saint."

Seeing the men relax, "Let me explain, Johnny was hit three differnt times, none of the hits were serious, they did inflict much pain and a profusion of blood loss."

Sam sighed and downed the remainder of his drink, "He came awake as I was stitching him up, and he pushed me away and then proceeded to..." Sam smiled and hunched his shoulders, "When he pulled back the covers he found he was stark naked under the sheet. As one of the wounds was on his hip, I had to disrobe him completely."

Sam nodded as Scott held up the whiskey decanter. A healthy amount replaced in the doctors' glass and a good sip, Sam continued, "Of course, Maria and Teresa were in the room assisting me. I never knew someone as tanned as Johnny and naturally bronzed in skin tone could flush a deep red."

Scott gulped back his drink and laugh making a polite choking noise.

Murdoch shook his head and gave that little harrumph sound he made when he could not think of anything to say whether in agreement or disagreement.

Scott straightened and squared his shoulders, years of decorum and etiquette had the now in control voice ask, "So you are saying my enigmatic, impetuous little brother will fully recover?"

Sam nodded, "his wounds definitely," Sam hesitated, "his modesty may take a little longer."

Finding a grin on his face and a finger he placed in one ear and wiggled back and forth, "I don't believe I have ever heard a higher screech or more rapidly fired Spanish words than from my two '_assistants' _, needless to say the two women were not amused at Mr. John Lancer's actions."

The men turned as Maria entered the room her rapid-fire Spanish preceding her, "El chico es decente ahora. You may go up."

Her statement delivered she turned and left the room, more rapid fired Spanish drifting back from her departing form.

Scott had a devilish glint to his slate-blue eyes, his mouth turned up in a smile, bending to place his glass on the table he bowed to the two older men, "Gentlemen I believe I will go up and sit with my brother for a while, please excuse me."

"Tell your brother," Murdoch hesitated, "my son I will be up to see him after I see Sam settled in the kitchen with supper."

It would be exactly the right thing to say that Scott was amused his little brother was not.

Scott entered his brothers' bedroom to find the younger man _pouting _Scott smiled, that was the appropriate word to describe his petulant brother, "You look a lot better than when you were brought in clutched in our father's arms."

Johnny folded his arms over his chest, blue eyes filled with an icy glare, lips pushed out, "If I wern't stuck in this bed..."

Holding up one hand Scott wiggled one long slender finger, "Oh but you are... stuck in that bed... little brother. And in that bed you will stay until Doctor Jenkins says otherwise."

His own arms now folded over his chest Scott looked down on his brother, critically examining the younger man. The paler than normal skin tone, he was stunned how someone as tanned and healthy as his brother was earlier was now as pale as he was himself when he first stepped off the stage in Morro Coyo.

Defiant blue eyes began to close, fighting sleep.

Scott stifled a laugh as his little brother's blue eyes fluttered, then popped open as wide as his lids would allow, folded arms releasing the tension they held snapped back in a last ditch effort to maintain control.

Scott pulled a chair up beside the bed, sitting down he placed a hand over his brothers' forehead feeling for the inevitable heat, soon if not already existing, to begin.

Johnny's eyes searched his brother's slate blue eyes, "Scott..."

Taking his hand from Johnny's forehead, already hot to his touch, Scott pulled the sheet up to his brothers' shoulders. Johnny's arms having lost the battle with sleep, safely tucked in, "You sleep Johnny I'll be right here."

Fever bright eyes snapped open, "Scott... hurt too... need rest," Lids drooping they snapped open once more as the sounds of boots on the floor entering his room, "Sam... Murdoch... make brother... bed... rest..."

Sam moved to the bed, like Scott, he felt the fevered forehead of his patient, "He will John."

"Gracias, Sam. Murdoch stay... watch...," Johnny was drifting again the apparent need for his father to remain, kept the young man from succumbing to a much need sleep.

Murdoch bent down to his son's bed, running one strong hand over the forehead of his boy shifting the overly long shock of hair from blue eyes, "Johnny, son, this is your father, you _will _sleep, Scott _will_ sleep_. I _will be right here son, _I_ _will _watch your back."

Johnny nodded a small smile on his lips, "Call... tune... Ol' Man?"

"Precisely correct mi hijo, now sleep," Murdoch smiled as the blue eyes lost the fight, "Papa will be right here."

**Riddles**

Scott sat in the side chair beside the fireplace in the great room, an open book in his lap, but his eyes not focused on one word written there.

Instead, his eyes had a faraway look, his lips clinched in a straight line the skin between his eyebrows wrinkled.

Sighing he folded the book closed and sat it to the side on the small table, leaning forward he just sat there forearms on thighs, hands clutched as if greeting each other.

'John Madrid Lancer, who was he, what made him tick,' Scott stood and stretched.

Since coming home to Lancer, he had had his share of experiences and surprises. He snorted in a polite manner, and shook his head; oh, he had been most surprised to learn about a brother, a younger brother... talk about the proverbial '_kick in the head'._

'_My mother had only one kid, that was me.'_

'_Likewise.'_

Not believing what he had heard the tall blond-haired Easterner glared at the scruffy, grinning saddle tramp, '_It was Murdoch that had two,' _turning back to the young woman greeting him, '_Two what,' _he said with exasperation.

The young dark-haired woman smiled, shrugged a slim shoulder, '_wives and sons_.'

A soft snicker from the _cowboy _had the Bostonian wonder why in the world he was even here, a dirty one-horse town, himself an educated man and a laughing trail grubby _boy._

He had the inclination to throw his bag back up to the stage driver and go back to Boston. Scott Garrett Lancer however had insatiable drives to learn, to experience new vistas and was good at puzzles.

This _found brother _was placed in the category of _new_ something he wanted to know about, a puzzle.

This _cowboy, _this _brother_, even if Murdoch Lancer did not impress him or if this ranch of his turned out to be little more than a patch of dried out grass and a few skinny cows, he wanted to know about his _brother._

Scott found himself in front of the table holding the glass decanter of very fine sipping whiskey, direct from Scotland no less, brandy and sherry all requirements of a gracious host. Picking up the Scotch, he poured a two finger shot, replacing the glass top he carefully sat the cut crystal vessel back in the same spot it had occupied... his father was a man of exacts.

Nothing out of place, everything in military precision, he smiled around the glass as it touched his lips.

That was how Murdoch Lancer's constant, structured world had been... until his _sons_ came home, especially one enigmatic, irrepressible young man.

Scott had seen it from day one, his little brother needed to be in control. He later learned that was not because of a _desire_ for control but a _need _for control.

As a child growing up in conditions not healthy for a child of mixed heritage the child taught himself, control in discipline and circumstances.

Shifting his weight in the chair Scott settled once more, thoughts remaining on the young man upstairs.

Johnny, his little brother Johnny, just out of short pants had trained himself how to react to any given situation.

Scott made another ungentlemanly snort, when he himself, just out of short pants, had been whiling away his days at dinner parties, school pranks, dances and the many servants employed by his grandfather to cater to his every whim his little brother had been fighting in the streets of disreputable towns just to stay alive.

Scott picked up his glass and noticed there was only a taste at the bottom, "Well that will not do," he said more to himself than any one in the room.

Upon looking around, he shook his head as he stood, "talking to oneself now Master Scott what would Boston society say about that."

"Probably lock you up and toss the key," the soft female voice said from the doorway. "Do I have to worry or are you just thinking out loud?" as Teresa stepped further into the room a smile on her face and laughter in her brown eyes.

She took a chair beside the fireplace, "I mean it must be catching, Murdoch is talking up a storm to himself up in Johnny's room and ..." with an even bigger smile "he is actually answering himself."

Scott did not spill a drop of the sipping whiskey, as a laugh escaped his lips. Fumbling the top back on the glass vessel he turned, glass in hand returned to his own seat, "Well it would seem dealing with Johnny on an everyday basis is enough to make you pull your hair out."

With a snicker he added, "good thing my father has a full head of hair."

"Except on top," Teresa could not help letting Scott notice that Murdoch Lancer was getting sparse on the top of his noggin.

Scott had the glass to his lips and a little of the golden liquid run a rivulet down his chin, wiping the liquid up with a slender finger, "Teresa, if Murdoch could hear you..."

She stopped him with a wave of one hand, "Oh... he is still debating with himself, and Johnny dropped off to sleep a while ago."

Silently sipping his drink, he looked at the young woman sitting across from him. She was still young, still the wide eyed innocent, still his _little sister, _however she had begun to change.

She was still Teresa O'Brien, daughter of Paul O'Brien, ward to Murdoch Lancer and now sister to two big brothers and she was still just as feisty and known to portray the famous or infamous Lancer stubbornness.

Scott smiled around the edge of the glass as it touched his lips Miss O'Brien was growing up.

Teresa was still only sixteen when he and Johnny had arrived at Lancer. A soon to be birthday and the death of her father, the near death of her guardian and Day Pardees raid; the girl became a young woman almost over night.

In a short, span of time the tragedies, joys and expansion of her family the girl became a woman.

She managed Lancer like a well run machine, oh she had had a good teacher in Maria as to the everyday tasks, and she read a lot in her _women's magazines._

Pressing his lips together, Scott thought back on the young women in Boston. They nearly all went to finishing school to complete their entrance into society. Groomed with social graces, decorum and all the effects needed to be a proper and gracious host, wife and mother.

She had just graduated from the local school, top of her class she was now at the halfway point between girl and woman, "Teresa?"

The brown eyes locked on to his, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "Yes, Scott?"

That tilt of her head, the intelligent spark in her eyes, the firm set of her lips, 'God, she would put any of those debutantes in their place. A heart-breaker in the making', "Have you thought about going to finishing school?"

Teresa had not been sure what Scott was going to ask, but this was not anywhere near the light fun and bantering she was used to from her two brothers.

Waving a hand at the remark as if swatting at a bothersome fly, "What would you Lancer men do without me here?"

Holding the glass between his hands he sat forward and braced his forearms on his thighs, "Teresa I am serious, other refined young women back east take the next step upon entering society."

Teresa sighed and showed her even white teeth as she once more waved her hand, "Oh Scott, that's for those girls that live in fancy houses like you came from. Around here cows don't care what fork to use or if I wear a dress or pants." Her look was anything but convincing; Miss O'Brien had a thirst for knowledge.

Bowing her head, she peeked up from under dark lashes, "Do _you_ think I need to learn the social graces?"

Scott heard what Teresa did not say, she had told Johnny once that she valued the Bostonians insight, "Well you are coming of an age to begin thinking of marriage. Murdoch, Johnny and I cannot keep you from that and we would not want to_. If _he proves, _he _loves you and can adequately _provide_ for you that is," Scott took a sip from his rapidly emptying glass.

Grandfather had always stressed education.

"Yes, knowledge of any form should be embraced and since Lancer is a leading force in the valley we Lancer men need the social graces and decorum of a gracious hostess," standing to pour another drink. "You already conduct yourself in an efficient manner; wouldn't you like to outshine anyone in the valley when Murdoch entertains his friends and business associates here at Lancer?"

Teresa watched as Scott took the few steps to the liquor cart, placing the tip of her thumb between her front teeth, her thoughts racing.

She and her friends had talked about such an education upon graduation from the little school house in Green River.

Oh, but it was just a little country school house, nothing fancy. True there had been some very impressive teachers, a few to be exact. This was still an isolated area and men seeking a wife so teachers came and went regularly, generally snatched up fast. Some better than others to be sure, but all touted the need for higher education for women.

Pulling her thumb from between her teeth, "You really think so Scott," her brown eyes grasping.

"You know I trust your judgment," with a feisty unladylike snicker, reminiscent of one Johnny Lancer she smoothed her skirts with eager hands, "you really think I should. I... don't think Murdoch will agree. He can be so, so..."

"Protective," Scott interjected as he finished pouring his drink and took his seat once more. Teresa nodded, "exactly. So if Murdoch agreed to let me go to some frilly, finishing school, where would I go?"

Scott smiled, hefted his drink, "we, my dear girl, will cross that bridge when we come to it."

**A Return To Innocence**

Murdoch Lancer watched his son's eyelids slide over blue eyes, now bright with fever. They had all found out very soon that the younger Lancer could and did run a high temperature at the slightest incentive.

The older man sighed, what was it Scott said to him this morning as the _boy _was _running and playing_ with his dog. 'An enigma, a riddle within an enigma,' yes his hijo was a riddle.

Johnny Madrid, gun for hire, gunfighter, a boy raising himself from the age of ten grown to manhood at the age of fourteen.

Shielding his heart from caring too much for anything or anyone, even the killing was just a means for obtaining and retaining the label of 'top gun'.

His elder son Scott and Teresa, hell everyone in the immediate family, thought the younger Lancers reasoning to take up the gun was for survival. That statement was partially true; he did use the gun to survive.

Murdoch also knew his younger son drank in the knowledge he was fast and accurate with his gun, that his resolve to kill a man was as cold as any predatory animal.

Now Murdoch would not say his son was an animal, far from it. Today was exactly what Johnny Madrid Lancer was and is.

He worked harder and faster than two men, he joshed around with his brother and sister and played just as hard as any child.

Then in a serious situation where it was needed most the gunfighter appeared, cold in control.

An enigma a riddle, Murdoch smiled and touched the burning skin of his son, "Well son you are a riddle to some, but to me you are just my little blue eyed boy. A boy needing his fathers' guidance, discipline and love, son, Johnny you have that and more."

Murdoch made a shushing noise with his tongue as the young man began to thrash about in the bed, moans and mewls slipping from tight lips, "Papa me ayude le duele."

Running a strong but gentle hand over his sons sweating forehead, "I know it hurts hijo."

Plucking a wet cloth from the basin Murdoch wrung it out and folded it over the fevered brow, "Papa is here mi hijo, hush now."

"Ok papa no te vayas," the weak voice plaintively begged.

"I will not leave you ever again... never again my son," Murdoch smiled when his son settled into a restive sleep; it was going to be a long night.

Murdoch debated with himself, "Well Old Man seems like you will be riding that chair tonight."

Casting a disgruntled look at the small uncomfortable chair he let out a sigh, "Well I wanted my sons home... this just comes with the territory."

Looking back at his dark haired son, "I remember a much more comfortable chair in here when you were one year old."

Replacing the warm cloth with a cooler one, "Don't you worry son Papa will find that chair, then there will be no reason for me to leave your side while you need me."

He leaned closer as Johnny said, "Always, Ol' Man, siempre."

"Gracias mi hijo, sleep now," Murdoch watched as the eyes closed once more, the heart beating from his chest was so loud he was sure the whole state could hear it.

The door behind him opened slowly, the soft step of his elder son, the touch on his shoulder, "Sir?"

Without looking up from the face of his hurting child, "Scott," the name an acknowledgement.

"Fever," a one word question and statement as Scott moved around the bed.

"Burning up, but Sam said to expect it," looking up finally, "Where is Sam?"

"Oh," Scott had moved to the other side of the bed his own eyes locked onto his brothers face, "he was called out to the Ferguson's place seems the youngest got into something he shouldn't have."

Murdoch nodded, "Tim is eleven years old, and a personal magnet for trouble," he sighed a deep heart felt sigh.

Murdoch rung out another cloth and placed it on Johnnys' forehead, 'much like you son'.

"Sir," getting no answer from his father he touched a hand to the broad shoulder, "Murdoch." Satisfied when the worried chiseled face came up and tired blue eyes locked with his did Scott drop his hand, "Teresa sat out sandwiches and fresh coffee. You need to take a break and eat."

Nodding he felt his younger sons' forehead knowing it had not changed, "Doesn't feel any hotter, maybe that's good."

Taking the cloth from his fathers hand, "I'll be right here sir, please go take care of yourself."

Johnny shifted at the sound of voices over top of him, he heard a moan escape his lips as he tried to stretch tight muscles, and then relaxed as he heard Scott's voice, "Scott?"

"Right here brother," the soft voice whispered in his ear, "you seem to have a fever little brother."

Johnny rolled his head towards the voice, bleary eyes focusing with trouble, dry throat cracking, "Murdoch?"

"I sent our father off to eat and rest, how do you feel," Scott draped a cool cloth over his brothers' forehead.

Johnny smiled, "been better... anyone hurt?"

With a grin and a pat to Johnny's shoulder, Scott sat back, "no one but you little brother."

With a slight dip of his head, "eso es bueno... kinda tired..."

Scott smiled as Johnny dropped back to sleep, a riddle to unwrap. He was the one in pain and worried about the men he rode with, "oh Johnny you are such a conundrum one I will enjoy unraveling."

Dipping the cloth into the cool water of the basin, Scott rang it out.

Placing it once more on the fever hot brow of his brother he sighed, an enigma wrapped up in a riddle.

**Three-Day Respite**

"Ah come on Boston, ain't like I'm at deaths door," looking up at his brother from the _'convalescent chair' _Johnny folded his arms as best he could with out a grimace from pulling stitches, "I can feel my body growin' old just sittin' here."

Scott stared down at his brother and pulled his work gloves from his hands, "Well little brother," with a cocky smile and a tilt to his blond head, "least you are alive to grow old."

Johnny snickered and settled his still repairing body into a more comfortable position, "yeah there is that big brother," letting out a breath the pain began to ease.

Blue eyes critically viewed his tall brother, "you okay Boston?"

With an ungentlemanly snort, Scott put his hands on his hips, "Sam gave me the all clear."

Johnny bowed his head; Scott could not see his brothers' face or his expressive eyes, eyes that could read a persons every thought and send clear messages to an opponent or friend just by his eyes.

Dropping his hands to his sides Scott's voice was spiced with curiosity and concern, "What is it Johnny?"

Raising his head Johnny shrugged one shoulder, "Well, I'm glad doc gave ya a clean bill of health, but you okay with me?"

Scott crossed his arms over his chest, he knew without asking what his _little_ brother was saying, "You mean, how do _I _feel about _you _nearly giving _our _father a coronary. Or how _you _gave _me_ three sleepless nights of worry and," he held up one finger as Johnny shifted to say something more.

"No, _you _will listen to me now _little _brother," sensing Johnny's acceptance of the dressing down he was about to receive Scott continued.

"I have not put all my time and effort in the short time we have known each other to see you unnecessarily put your life before others."

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but shut it as Scott continued his tirade, "You no longer have yourself to answer to, being a lone wolf _was _who you were, little brother. Being _my_ little brother and Murdoch Lancer's _son _has shifted that invincible warrior to the back burner," sounding indignant Scott moved closer to his reclining brother, "Are you hearing me, Johnny?"

Johnny nodded his head, a slight smile on his lips, not enough to offend Scott but enough to make the ex-gunfighter feel worthy inside.

"Gracias hermano mayor," Johnny's grateful blue eyes locked onto Scotts vexed sky blue eyes, "I hear ya loud and clear."

Scott allowed the corner of his lips to turn up into a smile, "Well you remember who you are now little brother," growing just a touch more serious, but with the light banter the brothers enjoyed, "I don't want to grow old alone."

Both brothers heard the light step behind them, both smiled, "besides," Scott continued loud enough for the _intruder_ to hear.

"I don't think I can handle _our sister _by myself... seems she enjoys your company more."

"That's not true," Teresa stomped one foot, hands on hips her voice incredulous at the statement from Scott, "I care for you both the same, I...," she stopped as she noticed Johnny's shoulders shaking and Scott with a big grin on his face, "oh you two are incorrigible. Why Murdoch even brought you both back...,"

She came forward and stood beside the lounge chair in which Johnny reclined, putting a hand out tousled his hair, and smiled up at Scott, "But I am glad he did and you both came, thank you."

Johnny pushed a hand through his hair to put it as close to groomed as his long hair would allow, "Nah T'resa _we_," shifting eyes to Scott, "thank _you_ for takin' such good care of us, gracias hermanita."

Teresa leaned down and planted a kiss to her dark haired brothers' head.

"Usted es el hermano de bienvenida," as she looked on both brothers, "hermanos."

The atmosphere was becoming too somber for the usually energetic younger Lancer male, "Hey if you feel so generous mi hermana how 'bout a plate of cookies and lemonade?"

Before Teresa could turn around to admonish Johnny new footsteps came from behind the three siblings, "I think Teresa needs to be pampered a little too, don't you agree boys."

It was not so much a question as an order as the Lancer patriarch carried a tray with a pitcher of Maria's lemonade with five glasses. Behind him came Maria with a basket of fresh from the oven cookies.

Johnny's dog Brioso raised his head more interested at the basket Maria carried than the growled threat by his master, "don't even think about it perro."

Sitting the tray on the table Murdoch began to pour, "I think we have a lot to be grateful for."

Murdoch poured the liquid sunshine into each glass and handed them out. Maria placed the basket of cookies on Johnny's lap for a lack of space as a glass gently placed into her hands.

Making sure everyone had a glass Murdoch took in the sight of his family, small in comparison to some, large to others.

To him it was just right because his sons were here, together at Lancer. His little girl, when had Teresa become more than just his ward, smiling he knew it was when she was born.

A daughter of Lancer, and Maria who had been much more than just a cook and housekeeper, she had been a friend, Murdoch smiled again at the woman, no much more than a friend she was family.

"Gentlemen," he looked at his sons, "and ladies," he slightly bowed to the women, "I propose a toast to friends and family."

"Here, here," Scott raised his glass. Johnny raised his and softly spoke "salund."

Teresa giggled and raised her glass, "cheers."

Maria, tears in her brown eyes raised her glass, "a la familia."

It was at the time everyone took a sip of lemonade the mongrel dog made his move, grasping the basket of cookies between strong white teeth he made fast his escape.

Johnny one hand full of the glass, reached with the other shifting his body enough that he found himself off balance and heading for the patio floor.

Scott made a grab as the dog and purloined basket of cookies sped past him. He lost his balance as he leaned down and twisted at the same time, smiling from his position, his rump now on the flagstones of the patio, he held his glass of lemonade in the air.

Murdoch stared at the retreating hind end of the big scruffy dog, as Maria and Teresa broke out in giggles, hands over their mouths as Johnny yelled choice words at his, in deep sh- well in big trouble perro.

A large hand appeared in front of Scott's face, following the arm he smiled up at his father, grasping the helping hand he raised gracefully to his feet, "Thank you, father."

"Not a problem, son. Let's get your brother back onto his chair before he breaks something else," Murdoch made sure his elder son had his feet under him before turning back to the younger boy.

Johnny looked up from his position on the stone floor with a sickly smile, "Too late Ol' Man."

Both older men looked down as Johnny swiveled around on his rump to sit cross-legged, a hitch in his breath as he held his left hand with his right.

Scott immediately knelt beside his brother, Teresa right beside him in a pool of calico skirt and petticoats, reaching out his hand to help, Johnny snatched his hand to his chest, "Leave it Scott probly just strained."

Teresa sat back, hands in her lap, "you mean sprained and it looks worse than that to me... Maria," Teresa called to the housekeeper.

Johnny glared up at his siblings, "why not charge admission, mierda." Johnny felt a tap to the back of his head as Maria moved to examine the wrist, "Si," she looked at Johnny and patted his head, "Por favor Patron, you will send some one for medico Sam."

Scott stood and moved out of the way of Maria and Teresa. Johnny sounded like the worst patient of all time, Mr., I can take care of myself Lancer was eating up the attention from the two women.

The elder brother knew Johnny hated the feeling of helplessness and pushed himself to disguise the fact. Johnny had said one time, 'never let 'em see ya hurt, it could be a one way ticket ta boot hill.'

Scott himself had seen Johnny hurt on the range and never let on until he was safe behind the doors of the hacienda.

Knowing his cocky, independent younger brother felt safe within the arms of his family made Scott smile.

There was hope for his ex-gunfighter brother to shake off the cloak of hard-nosed, free as an alley cat loner.

**One More Layer **

Scott sat on the ledge of the low adobe wall and as he sipped the after dinner Brandy, he contemplated the day.

It had been a month since the 'accident' Johnny's wrist was not broken, but Sam put a cast from knuckles to elbow 'just to be sure.'

Johnny of course fought like a _'treed coon', _Jelly's opinion when Sam layered the plaster cast on his patient.

Teresa would be attending Mrs. Constance Emerson's Women's School of Refinement in Sacramento. Aggie Conway's brother and sister lived in Sacramento with their twin daughters, both Teresa's age and attending in the spring.

Murdoch acquiesced under the prodding by his long time friend, Aggie.

Johnny however took much more prodding, cajoling and promises to give his reluctant OK.

Hearing his father's footsteps Scott swiveled on his perch on the wall, "Murdoch."

"Scott," the name preceding the man, "It's beautiful out tonight."

"Yes, sir it is. Johnny off to bed?"

Murdoch smiled, "After I pried him off the ottoman, must have been too much for him, his first day back to full days."

"Yes sir he did, whether it was unbridled energy or unfounded pride the boy worked like a wind dervish," Scott had been filled with pride by his brother but cautious of the boy's health.

Murdoch nodded, "Yes Cipriano said much the same. When he finished one project he would jump on his crazy palomino and ride pell-mell to the next one."

The two men stood silent for a span of a couple of minutes, Murdoch finished his drink, "I believe I will turn in, how about you son?"

Nodding to his father, "In just a bit, I love to hear everything settling in for the night. Knowing everything and everyone are tucked in safe and sound helps me sleep."

Patting his sons' shoulder Murdoch agreed and turned leaving his elder son listen to the soothing sounds of Lancer.

Scott pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. There was nothing in Boston to compare to Lancer, not saying some things he missed with a passion, but nothing like this.

Johnny Madrid Lancer, he was pulling the layers off with slow and deliberate care. Finding treasures under the riddled layers was like finding El Dorado.

Johnny reminded him of the twenty dollar gold pieces Murdoch had left 'lying around' when they first arrived.

You never had to ask anything from Johnny, it was always there, given freely with no hidden attachments.

Looking up as Jelly came around the corner on the last leg of his 'locking up' routine he smiled.

"Jelly, all secured?" Scott liked the old man, it had taken awhile for the old codger to grow on him, but he was good to Johnny and that was all

Scott needed to know to accept the old man.

"Tighter than a keg of whiskey on a Sunday. You takin' in tha night air?" Jelly always asked questions, and always gave an answer if you did not beat him to it.

Scott unfolded himself from the wall and stood in front of the old man, "Just turning in, Jelly."

Toeing a stone with his boot tip Jelly looked up at the patrons elder son, "Ah, Johnny ok, Scott. Cip said tha boy mighta' over done it some today?"

Putting a hand on the frail shoulders Scott beamed down on the whiskered face, "You know Johnny, 'where angels dare to tread'.

Jelly puffed up and snapped his red suspenders, "Well good thing tha good Lord gots' lots a' angels. That boy 's enough ta wear the patience of a saint."

Scott emitted a chuckle, making the older man smile under his whiskers, "How right you are Jelly, how very right you are. Well, good night."

"Night Scott," Jelly said after the younger man turned and made his way into the hacienda.

Looking around the darkened corners of the patio Jelly put out the lantern and made his way to his own room and soft bed.

Every night the old wanderer thanked the Good Lord for bringing him to Johnny and Lancer. Here he was home, here he had a family of his own and he had a surrogate son in Johnny.

Johnny rolled over onto his back; he heard his brothers' door shut down the hall, Jelly's footsteps heading to his room, and the not so quiet snores from his father's room.

He could sleep now, every one tucked in, safe within the arms of Lancer. Rolling over onto his side his right hand pushed under the pillow, his fingers felt the cold of the gun barrel.

While he drew breath, every living thing belonging to Lancer belonged to him and he took his job as protector seriously.

Sighing once he thought of T'resa, how was he gonna protect her all tha way in Sacramento. As sleep finally closed his eyes his last thoughts were of train schedules and distances.

Murdoch awoke with a start, his heart beating out of control. Wiping a hand down his face he sighed, and lay back against his pillows.

Nothing, it was nothing a wayward thought.

Heart calming he smiled, Scott said Johnny was a riddle; and his younger son was just that.

To a father having waited so long, Johnny was just a boy needing his family and his father, already some of the roughness and wildness were smoothing out.

Now if the angels could do a better job at protection, he would have to send a prayer up to God this Sunday in church.

Eyes closing in sleep he thought he heard a chuckle; one with a lighter than air sound, final thoughts from his sleep-invaded brain was 'did God laugh'?

**I Am Who I Am.**

_solista _

_July 1, 2014_


End file.
